


the world turns upside down

by andibeth82



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint and Poe are really good at being pilots, Companionable Snark, Crossover, F/M, Leia and Natasha are the best friendship, Marvel/Star Wars Crossover, otps in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is Natasha,” says Clint when they arrive on board, pushing his partner forward as Natasha yanks herself away from Clint’s grip. Rey nods curtly; she’s shed the jacket Clint had seen her in earlier and her staff is resting against the wall of the ship.</p><p>“You didn’t tell me she piloted <i>the Millennium Falcon,”</i> Natasha hisses as they fall behind, following Rey towards the cockpit. </p><p>OR: the one where Clint and Nat meet Rey and Finn, Poe is one hell of a pilot, and everyone wants to join the Resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world turns upside down

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be set in the aftermath of TFA and takes into account MOST of the events and relationships from the movie, though be warned that I did take the liberty of bypassing a few plotlines, as this is a crossover/AU/fusion type story that kind of ended up all over the place and in its own little world. Basically, there are a lot of feelings. 
> 
> Title from _Hamilton_.

The last thing Clint Barton expects to see when he’s out searching for his morning food is a tall scavenger encroaching on his territory.

Clint recognizes she’s a scavenger, if only because that had been him once upon a time, and that had been his partner, too. He draws back, keeping his footsteps quiet and his gait slow, though he figures it might be a lost cause by now, his attempts at being stealth were never quite as good as Natasha’s. Still, he’s not about to startle this person, or make himself known if he doesn’t have to.

“I know you’re following me.”

It’s not worth trying to beat around the bush, he decides, as he walks forward more and meets his intruder head on. There’s too much crap flying around the Galaxy nowadays, it’s kill or be killed half the time and Clint really doesn’t want to be killed.

“Yeah, so what?”

“So _what_?” The person -- it’s a girl, he realizes as she raises her voice -- swings the staff she’s holding in his direction, forcing him to stumble backwards in surprise and Clint raises an eyebrow as her face comes into full view. She’s got a hard glare set in a gaze that seems young and old all at the same time and is wearing a dark leather jacket over a set of robes that seem twisted around her body in the most intricate way.

“You sure you want to do that?” He eyes the way her fingers are tightening around her staff, subtle movements to probably anyone else who wasn’t trained in sparring or defensive combat. “You don’t really know who you’re dealing with.”

(He could never sneak around in places, but talking himself out of situations, now, _that_ he could do. Natasha likes to call it “Han Solo-ing,” and when she says it, it makes Clint laugh.)

The girl snorts. “You look like you crawled out of a ship’s carcass. I don’t believe you’re any kind of threat to me.”

 _She’s seen things_ , Clint realizes the longer he looks at her, the way she immediately responds. There was brash, and he _knew_ brash -- he was brash, Natasha was brash -- but there was also experience. And even though the girl in front of him looks like she’s twelve, Clint can plainly see she’s got a lot of experience. And it was likely that not all of it was good.

“Are you with the Resistance?”

“Are _you_ with the Resistance?”

Clint weighs the question in his head, trying to decide whether he should be honest or throw another one back at her.

“No. Okay – shit, _wait_.” In the time it’s taken him to respond, the girl has lunged forward, thrusting her staff at Clint’s middle with a fury that he knows is not entirely playful. It takes him a second longer than he’s comfortable with, but he manages to duck out of the way as her spear jabs into his space, meeting mid-air instead of his chest.

 _Decently good aim_ , Clint thinks as he unsheathes his knife and steadies himself on his feet. _Unafraid to attack. Confident in her skills_. Clint finds himself smiling and the girl looks stricken, and then angry.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Clint shakes his head, still brandishing his weapon. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone.”

“I can remind you of a lot more than _someone_ ,” the girl says, snapping her body around to attack again. Clint neatly dodges her for the second time and when he twists back, he’s surprised to find the hilt of his knife clashing against the wood of her staff.

“Shit, seriously!” Clint grunts as she pushes against him, unprepared for the amount of strength she’s exhibiting. “If you give me a second and promise not to beat the crap outta me, I’ll explain.”

“Explain how you’re not in the Resistance, but you were following me, and clearly sent to attack me?”

“I wasn’t sent to attack you!” Clint lets her push him back and then stumbles away, throwing up his hands, dropping his knife in the process. “I was looking for food, okay? Same as you. I come out here every damn day with my partner. First time I’ve seen someone around in months that wasn’t an animal.”

“Partner.” The words seem to unlock something inside of her and she tilts her head, the barest sign that she’s considering letting down her guard. “You have a partner?”

“Yes,” Clint says, hoping that Natasha won’t actually beat him to hell and back if she finds out about this whole situation. “We’re not in the Resistance because we don’t belong to anyone. Not anymore. Doesn’t mean we’re not decent people, though.”

The girl stares a little suspiciously. “So you’re not in the First Order?”

“Swear to god, I’m not in the First Order,” Clint repeats. The girl narrows her eyes.

“Then what are you?”

“Uh.” Clint laughs slightly. “I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole here, but a little back and forth would be nice. You think I’m telling you what and who the hell I am, when I don’t even know your name?”

The girl’s body remains rigid, everything about her clearly defensive, but a hint of a smile tugs at her lips and Clint finds himself smiling back. _Maybe this whole Han Solo bullshit works after all._

“I’m Rey.”

“Rey.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Clint.”

Rey looks down at his outstretched palm and then tucks her staff carefully under her arm so that she can reach forward.

“Not Resistance.”

“Not First Order, either.”

Rey nods slowly and withdraws her hand. “I understand not belonging to anyone,” she says a little hesitantly. “Or to anything.” She leans over to adjust the garb around her legs and then meets Clint’s gaze again.

“So, do you have a ship?”

“Nope.” Clint shrugs. “We’re...kind of like freelancers. Space smugglers, you could call us. Mercenaries, really, though we’re not in it for killing people. Well, unless we have to. I mean, self-defense and all.”

“If you’re space smugglers, where’s your ship?” Rey challenges and Clint shrugs.

“Haven’t had a ship since we crashed here awhile ago. So now we travel by foot, mostly.” He nods towards her. “What about you? Where’s _your_ ship? I mean, if you even have one.”

Rey’s entire face changes at his question, her eyes curving into a smirk that extends to her lips, and if the expression wasn’t so _Natasha_ , Clint thinks he would want to punch her.

“Yes.” She grins wider. “I have a ship. Doesn’t mean I’m going to show it to you, though.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “You think I’d _expect_ you to? After you accused me of being with the First Order?”

Rey glances up at the sky, and then squints a little bit in Clint’s direction. “You said you had a partner.”

“Yes,” Clint responds with a nod, and Rey looks thoughtful.

“Is she handy with a ship?”

Clint snorts out a laugh. “Natasha? Natasha’s handy with _anything_. She could probably fix something she’d never seen before with one hand tied around her back,” he boasts, before catching himself. “Why?”

“Because I think I’d be interested in meeting her.” Rey pauses, and Clint can almost see her debating whether or not to say the next words out loud.

“And if you bring her along, I’ll show you where my ship is.”

 

 

“ _Clint_.”

“I know, I know.”

“Clint, you were _Han Solo-ing_ again.”

“I know, Nat, but really –”

“I sent you for breakfast and you picked up a scavenger! And instead of going off on your own business, you engaged with her and now she’s taking us to her ship!”

“I know, Nat.”

Clint tightens his grip on Natasha’s body as she pushes the speeder forward, yelling over her shoulder as the wind pulls at his hair. It had taken him less than ten minutes to convince Natasha they had to leave, though he had waited until they were actually mobile to add why.

“Do you ever think about consequences? Or do you just open your mouth when someone provokes you and then pick up the nearest stray that’s wandering around the Galaxy? This is _not_ why we got out of Republic!”

“I thought we got out of the Republic because we were sick of the fact that everyone was doing nothing and twiddling their thumbs while the world was blowing up around us.”

“ _Clint_.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

 

 

“This is Natasha,” says Clint when they arrive on board, pushing his partner forward as Natasha yanks herself away from Clint’s grip. Rey nods curtly; she’s shed the jacket Clint had seen her in earlier and her staff is resting against the wall of the ship.

“You didn’t tell me she piloted the _Millennium Falcon_ ,” Natasha hisses as they fall behind, following Rey towards the cockpit. Clint rubs a fingerless gloved hand over the back of his neck, wondering if he should admit that he was just as blindsided as she had been when they had finally gotten to where Rey had told them her ship was parked.

 _Yeah, she had a ship alright_. How the hell she had _gotten_ it was a story Clint was determined to get out of her at some point, if they stayed around for longer than five minutes.

“If I knew that, you might not have yelled at me as much on the way here.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Where’s your crew?” She asks pointedly as Rey turns and clears her throat.

“I’m the crew. Well, I’m the pilot. It’s just me and Finn.”

Clint can see Natasha sizing the girl up, trying to sense if she’s over confident or if she truly _is_ just someone scavenging around with barely anyone to back her up. It wasn’t unusual for people to branch off and survive on their own; Clint and Natasha were proof of that.

“No one else?”

“Who else would I need?” Rey sounds put out. “I can fly the ship just fine, and Finn takes care of our weapons. Do _you_ need anyone other than him?” She jerks her finger in Clint’s direction, and he startles slightly.

“She’s a little fun,” Natasha mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible, but Clint catches it. Rey smiles and Clint wonders from the expression if she’s managed to hear the words, too. “So, what brings you to Axxila?”

“Food,” Rey says simply. “Finn is taking care of that now. Once we get settled, we’re headed back to Jakku. That’s where I’m from.”

“Jakku?” Clint raises an eyebrow. “That junkyard of a planet?”

Rey glares at him. “That _junkyard of a planet_ was my home for years, and a pretty good one.”

“Sorry.” Clint holds up his hands. “Just not used to anyone _wanting_ to go to Jakku, that’s all.”

“In that case, you’re welcome to get the hell off my ship,” Rey responds bluntly and Natasha steps forward as Rey reaches for her staff.

“Calm down,” Natasha says, leveling her gaze. “We didn’t mean to offend you. My partner gets a little ahead of himself sometimes.”

“I do not,” Clint grumbles and Natasha sighs, turning her attention back to Rey.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the ship, since that’s why you initially brought me here. Besides, it’s not every day you see the Millennium Falcon piloted by one person.”

Rey cracks a small grin at Natasha’s words and Clint feels a smile overtake his lips at the same time. Natasha had, without making it clear she was doing so, managed to figure out exactly how to appeal to the other girl’s vulnerability, exuding a confidence and friendliness that allowed Rey to trust her.

“I’ll show you the works,” Rey says, clutching her staff and walking off. Natasha trails behind her, leaving Clint standing with his hands in his pockets in the middle of the cockpit.

 

 

Rey takes Natasha to the engineering stations and circulatory bay, and points out the nuts and bolts of the Falcon while Natasha marvels at it all, trying to absorb as much as she can without looking too over-eager.

“Are you a pilot, too?”

“Not really,” Natasha admits as she stops to examine a compression line. “I mean, I’ve flown before, but not regularly. Not since my ship crashed a while ago.”

“Is that when you found him? Clint?”

Natasha smiles and gets up. “No, that’s not how I met him. We used to work together, and when things got bad, we both got out. But when we crashed on Axxila, that was the end of our ship, and it’s not like they have a store in this ass end of the Galaxy for new ones.” She shrugs. “Fortunately, we’re used to being on foot, and this place had enough for us to make a home in, for awhile.”

“Oh.” Rey looks a little surprised, as if she’s expected a different answer, and Natasha half wonders if she did. “I met Finn when he crashed in Jakku. He didn’t know the pilot who he was flying with was alive at the time, and we ended up on the run because…well, anyway.” Rey shakes herself out of whatever sentence she was intent on finishing. “We made out alright.”

“I can see that you did,” Natasha says, looking around again. As much as she and Clint had fallen into the mercenary business, their smuggling was largely confined to small objects, items like clothing or food or tools. They had never tried to scavenge for big things, and certainly nothing like the prized ship of Han Solo himself. But Natasha knows she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she wasn’t a little bit jealous that someone who looked half her age was piloting one of the most notorious ships in the Galaxy.

“Where did you say you were from again?”

Natasha looks up curiously. “Here. Axxila.” She eyes Rey. “But if you’re looking for a longer answer, that’s something I don’t give up easily.”

Rey smiles faintly. “I can tell. You have a history.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Natasha asks offhandedly, even though she has a feeling it’s the wrong thing to say. Besides, it’s not like she’s particularly proud of _her_ history.

“Some people do,” Rey says, stopping and putting her hand on a pipe. “And some people don’t. I don’t know where I fall right now.”

 _Well, at least we have one thing in common_ , Natasha thinks as she watches the girl’s face, recognizing the subtle change that allows Natasha to pick up on her vulnerability. They’re interrupted by a loud yell and both girls take off immediately, racing back through the corridors and skidding to a halt when they get to the boarding ramp.

“Well. I see you met Finn,” Rey says dryly. Finn is holding Clint by the jacket and Clint grunts as he releases him.

“He just came at me! Like an animal!”

“Because someone strange was wandering around my ship and Rey hadn’t told me about it!” Finn yells back. Clint makes a face.

“I _told_ you. I’m clean. I met your friend while I was out scouting. I’m not with the First Order.”

“Prove it,” says Finn, readying his fists again. Natasha moves quickly, stepping in front of Clint as Finn swings wildly. Natasha neatly sidesteps his attack, wrenching Clint out of the way. She grabs a knife from her belt, whirling around and grabbing Finn by the neck, pressing the blade dangerously close to his skin.

“If I was with the First Order, I’d probably cut you right now,” she says conversationally as she lets go, and Finn scurries to get away. “Fortunately for you, we’re about as far from the First Order as you can get.” She drops her knife while Rey and Finn both stare at her and then Rey passes Finn an exasperated look.

“They’re fine. They’re smugglers, but we can trust them.”

“Fine. They’re fine. Why didn’t you _tell_ me we had visitors, then?” Finn practically groans as he follows her back onto the ship. “That’s like, the second time I’ve been bested in two weeks.”

“I didn’t need saving,” Clint mutters as they follow Rey and Finn up the boarding ramp. Natasha snorts.

“Yeah, you were doing pretty well over there with an almost black eye.” She sighs quietly. “I’ll check you better when we get a moment to ourselves.”

“I _told_ you, I don’t need --”

There’s a loud explosion behind them and Natasha grabs Clint, pushing him towards the ship as the sounds get louder. Her ears vaguely register the sound of blasters being aimed in their direction, and she curses loudly under her breath.

“What the hell is that?” Finn yells over the commotion as he runs with them back into the ship. Rey beelines for the cockpit and dives into the Falcon’s pilot seat, hitting some buttons. “Did you guys bring some other smugglers with you?”

“No,” Natasha says breathlessly as the ship lurches and speeds forward. “ _That’s_ the First Order.”

 

 

“I can’t believe you got us driven off _another_ planet.”

“What? It wasn’t _my_ fault those Stormtroopers found us!”

“No, but we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with if it wasn’t for you and your Han Solo-ing.”

“Oh, please. You took one look at this ship and almost kissed it. It’s not like _you_ would’ve willingly left.”

“I wasn’t the one who engaged with a stranger.”

“The girl was the one who engaged with _me_ , don’t forget.”

“Clint --”

“I know, I know. But hey, we’re on the Millennium Falcon. That’s cool, right?”

“Hawkeye on a Falcon. There’s a joke in there somewhere, and I don’t want to hear it.”

 

 

Clint has to hand it to Rey: she’s a damn good pilot.

They manage to make it off Axxila with only minor trouble, thanks to Rey’s quick thinking and Finn snapping into action, readying the Falcon’s cannon and shooting with ease as Rey guides the ship into the star-filled galaxy. Clint presses himself against the wall as he watches them work, marveling at the precise, coordinated movements that remind him so much of the way he works with Natasha. He inwardly finds himself wondering how long these two have known each other.

“I have a bit of practice,” Rey says once they’ve stabilized and she’s hit the cruise control, allowing her to step away from the pilot seat.

“You don’t say.” Clint rubs at a bruise he’d obtained when Natasha slammed into him by accident, after Rey had made a rather harried and unexpected turn. “It took me years to learn how to fly.”

“I guess I was a natural,” Rey says, looking a little uncomfortable. Clint decides to let the conversation go, mostly because he has bigger things on his mind: like where the hell they’re going and if Natasha and him should even stay on the ship at all.

“So, are we going back to Jakku?”

“No,” Rey says, shaking her head. “Not anymore. I don’t trust going there with the First Order on our backs.”

“Okay. Then where _are_ we going?” Clint asks as Natasha strides forward and stretches out in the co-pilot seat. Rey gives her a surprised look but says nothing, and Clint manages to hide a smirk.

“D’Qar,” she says after a moment. “There are Resistance fighters there. We’ll be safe.”

Clint glances at Natasha and notices that she looks a little uncomfortable. “And the First Order won’t follow us there, either?”

“I didn’t say that,” Rey says with a small sigh, as if she’s annoyed that Clint’s implying she hasn’t thought about it. “But I plan to do a few more loops to throw them off course, and then we’ll re-establish a flight path. Besides, if they do come after us, there’s more than enough firepower there to take care of them. And I’ll feel safer going somewhere that’s already protected.”

“That makes me feel better,” Clint mutters. “As long as we’re with you, can we at least get something to eat? I’m starving, and I missed breakfast.”

Rey rolls her eyes in a way Clint thinks Natasha should be proud of, but she gets up and motions for Clint to follow her down a few corridors, leading Clint into a cargo hold. Rey opens a few storage units and takes out a tray of cold, packaged rations.

“Sorry it’s not more,” she apologizes as she hands it over. “I’ve gotta check on something with the hyperdrive, but feel free to hang out in here for a bit.”

“You’re the boss,” Clint says with a lazy salute, and he notices Rey doesn’t even bother with the eye roll this time. He sags to the ground, leaning up against the wall as he tears open the small package, shoving food into his mouth, not even realizing how hungry he’s been. Clint continues to eat hastily, lulled by the gentle hum of the Falcon’s engine, until he’s interrupted by someone opening the door.

“Sorry,” Finn apologizes as he steps inside the room. Clint shrugs.

“It’s your ship.”

“No, I mean, sorry. For before. For attacking you.” He looks a little embarrassed. “It’s just...we were in a situation before, and we had some trouble. And you don’t know who you can trust --”

“Believe me, I get it,” Clint interjects, waving his hand. “You’re talking to two space smugglers who fought against hell and high water to get out of a bad situation once upon a time. I understand being on guard when it comes to someone you don’t know.”

Finn nods. “I guess you do,” he says slowly. “In that case, mind if I join you?”

“We’re a long way from Axxila and nowhere near D’Qar. Why not?”

Finn accepts the invitation and settles down next to Clint, leaning his head back against the ship’s wall.

“You got a home?” Clint asks after a moment as Finn studies his hands, apparently content with not eating. The other man slowly shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Well, I do now, I guess. But until now, I spent a lot of my life in a place where I thought I belonged. Turned out I didn’t.”

There’s something in Finn’s voice that makes Clint think he’s not being told the whole story, but Clint decides not to push.

“I get that,” he says after a moment. “My parents died at the end of the old Empire, and then my grandparents took care of me until they died, too. So I kind of got by with odd jobs, scavenging, that sort of thing. Did that until I was recruited to work for the New Republic.”

Finn’s head snaps up in surprise. “You -- you worked for the Republic?”

“For a time,” Clint says cagily. “Until I realized that the First Order was becoming too powerful. I wanted to fight them, I thought we should do something, but the Republic wasn’t doing anything or anyone any favors. I had all this training and was doing nothing with it, and that didn’t sit well with me. Meanwhile, everyone I knew was either being recruited by the First Order or dying.” He notices Finn tensing up beside him, the veins in his neck pulsating a little too strongly.

“So how long were you in the Republic?”

“About seven years,” Clint says with a wave of his hand. “Natasha and I met during a late night where we both ended up drinking away our annoyances over the same things. When she suggested we bolt and get out on our own, it felt like fate.”

Finn rubs at the lower half of his face, letting out a long breath. When he turns his head, Clint notices his face is set in a look that’s both embarrassed and apprehensive.

“What would you say if I told you I used to be a Stormtrooper?”

Clint immediately chokes on the large piece of food he’s stuffed into his mouth, spitting chewed up bits into the palm of his hand as Finn wrinkles his nose.

“ _What_?”

When Finn doesn’t answer, he tries to clear his throat, wiping his hands on his pants. “Does she know? Rey?”

“Yes,” Finn says with a nod. “She does now. She didn’t when we met, though.”

“So you _used_ to be a Stormtrooper?” He puts down the rest of his rations, figuring at this point it’s safer to hold off on eating until he’s sure nothing else can come as a shock.

“I was taken from my family when I was young,” Finn explains after another pause. “Trained under the Stormtroopers and the First Order to be ruthless, and to kill for Kylo Ren and his army. I never had a friend, or a family, or any ideal that was my own...I never even had a name,” he finishes, his voice turning sad. “So I got out. Same as you. I met Rey, and we kind of struck out on our own.”

“Huh,” Clint says, because part of him has always wondered about how the Stormtroopers even recruited their army to begin with. “I’m not even going to ask about the name thing.”

Finn laughs. “Courtesy of Poe Dameron. You’ll meet him when we get to D’Qar.”

“Great, more friends,” Clint mutters but he’s half smiling. There’s earnestness to Finn, a genuine vibe that he can’t help but feel in tune with, a cockiness and an eagerness that reminds him of the way he knows he sometimes acts. Finn laughs again.

“You’ll like Poe, I promise. He’s a pilot, like Rey, and a damn good one.” Finn throws Clint a wink. “ _And_ he’s got a great head of hair.”

 

 

When Clint makes his way back towards the cockpit, he finds Natasha lingering in one of the corridors, looking a little lost.

“ _There_ you are,” she says in exasperation. “I thought you went to eat.”

“I did,” Clint says. “And then I got distracted.” His eyes dart towards where he knows Rey is stationed. “What’s her deal?”

“I don’t know yet,” Natasha murmurs. “We haven’t had much time to talk. She won’t give anything up. I don’t blame her, though.”

“Yeah, I know. Secrecy and trust and all,” Clint says resignedly and Natasha sighs.

“I know you want to get involved, Clint. But maybe it’s better if we just stay out of this. Do a little chit-chat when we get to D’Qar, make some new friends, and then get out -- I’m sure they have flight power we can steal.”

“Really?” Clint feels a disappointed look wash over his face. “That’s your answer to everything, now that we have some meaning and purpose in our lives, aside from just smuggling? Running away again?”

“Meaning and purpose?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Clint, we’re aboard the Millennium Falcon, we were chased off our own planet by the First Order, which means whatever these kids are doing, whether they mean to do it or not, they’re targeted. If we stay with them, we’re making _ourselves_ targets.”

“And isn’t this what we _wanted_ to do?” Clint argues, crossing his arms. “Get out there and be helpful? That’s _exactly_ what the Resistance is doing and exactly what we _can_ do if we get involved.”

“On our own terms, not because we’re getting tangled up in other people’s affairs!” Natasha hisses angrily. Clint groans.

“Christ, Nat, come on. They’re just kids. We were just kids, once.”

“Once,” Natasha snaps. “And then we grew up. We made mistakes, and made things right again. How much of our own lives are we going to continue to give up, just so we can help other people survive? When, exactly, has that worked out for us, Clint?”

Clint bites down on his lip, thinking of Finn and his confession. “Look, let’s at least just go with them to this Resistance base,” he says finally. “Who knows? Maybe we can find something there, too.”

Natasha looks annoyed. “And what are we going to find, Clint? New weapons? A home? Loyalty?” She spits out the last two words sourly, and Clint reaches for her hand.

“Does it matter?” He asks the question quietly, while thumbing the back of her palm. “We fucked ourselves over when we left the Republic, but does that even _matter_? It’s _always_ been just us, no matter what the situation is.”

Natasha stays silent but after another minute, she nods, and then lets herself fall forward and relax in his arms.

“Just promise you won’t leave me for a droid or something when we get to that Resistance base,” Natasha mutters into his shoulder, and Clint kisses her on the head.

“Nat, trust me. Not gonna happen. Plus, droids probably make terrible travel companions, and without you, I’d be missing a co-pilot.”

“Clint.” Natasha smiles faintly as she pulls away. “You can’t be my co-pilot, we don’t have our own ship.”

“Yeah, well.” Clint shrugs. “Point still stands. You need someone to watch your six, right?”

“Calling it my six doesn't change the fact you're just staring at my ass.”

“Hey, I don’t --” He’s cut off as the Falcon lurches suddenly, and Clint reaches out to keep from falling.

“Come on, what now?!”

There’s no immediate answer, but Clint notices that there’s no terrified yell from the cockpit, either, even as the ship continues to zig and zag in a way that’s decidedly dance-like. He stumbles with Natasha back towards the cockpit to find Rey with both hands on the controls, her jaw clenched in concentration, but she’s smiling.

“I’m assuming no one is going to take us down and kill us if you’re so _calm_ about it,” he yells out as Natasha holds onto him to keep him from falling again. Rey snorts out a laugh.

“No,” she says as the ship evens out and the clouds clear, revealing a vast land below. Clint catches sight of a small plane shooting out from underneath the belly of their ship, twirling through the sky in a dizzying manner.

“That’s Poe. That’s how we know we’re back.”

 

 

“Man, you are _killing_ it!” Finn whoops as they disembark, practically jetting off the boarding ramp. He runs straight into the arms of his friend.

“Figured I’d give you an appropriate welcome home,” says Poe, breaking away with a smile as Clint and Natasha trail behind him. “Not like I was worried Rey couldn’t handle it.” He turns and extends a hand towards Clint. “Poe Dameron, Resistance.”

“And one hell of a pilot, though he’s too embarrassed to say that himself,” Finn interjects. “This is Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.”

“Heard we had some company coming,” says Poe with a nod. “Glad to meet you both. Welcome to D’Qar.” He turns his attention back towards Finn and grins widely. “Been saving some good conversation for you, if you want to catch up.”

“Hell yes,” Finn says, falling into step beside his friend. He casts a glance back towards where Clint and Natasha are standing around, looking a little confused and lost, and sees Rey coming out of the ship.

“Rey will take care of them. She’ll bring them to Leia,” Poe says as they move away. “What’s their deal, then?”

“Space smugglers,” Finn says, turning around and meeting Poe’s eyes once they’ve reached a sufficient distance. “Rey ran into the guy on Axxila, which is where we picked them up. The guy -- Clint -- says he used to be in the Republic with the girl. Said they split when they realized they were kind of getting the shaft in terms of defending the Galaxy.”

“They deflected from the Republic?” Poe raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wonder why they didn’t go to the Resistance in the first place, if they were so hell bent on wanting to help people.”

“Not sure,” Finn admits. “But he did say they got out via a ship that crashed on Axxila, which is where they’ve been for awhile. So my guess is that it wasn’t ideal, but they’ve kind of been okay doing their thing up until now.”

Poe nods slowly. “Well, if they want to stay, we could use a few more fighters. As long as they’re up for it. How do we know they’re clean?”

“Rey and I flew with them, they didn’t try anything,” says Finn. “We got chased off of Axxila by the First Order, and they seemed just as freaked out about it as we were. Besides, I’m sure Leia will make them talk. Or at least terrify them into talking.”

Poe laughs. “Man, I missed having you around here. Come on.” He slings his arm around Finn’s shoulder. “BB-8’s about to beep himself into a seizure of excitement, knowing that you’re back.”

 

 

“Keep your mouth shut.”

“Me -- why me? I’m good at talking! It’s like, the _only_ thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not true, but I’m not going to get into that conversation right now.”

“Why, because talking about how good my blow jobs are will take too long?”

“ _Clint_ \--”

“So, what? You’re going to convince them that we’re clean, and that we just need a place to stay? Do you even know how to negotiate with people? Because normally, you just hit them.”

“I’ll hit _you_ if you keep talking.”

“Then that Rey will hit you with her staff.”

“Oh, please. Stop looking at me like that. I can take it.”

 

 

General Leia Organa is everything Natasha has expected from the stories, whispered and not, the ones that have been told to her during her childhood and the ones that swirled around in conversations during her days with the Republic. And yet, as Rey leads them into a large room filled with Resistance fighters, Natasha finds herself thinking that there’s something in the General’s eyes that reminds Natasha of herself -- a girl who’s working through something she’s just lost, but a girl who’s also determined not to let anyone else see parts of her fragmented soul.

“General Leia,” Rey says as they approach a large table. “Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha feels her nerves intensify unexpectedly as Leia gives them a once-over, unprepared for the amount of scrutiny she hadn’t realized she’d receive. If Leia has any doubts about the two people standing in front of her, however, she elects not to make her hesitation known.

“Nice to meet you,” Leia says smoothly. “And welcome to the Resistance.”

Natasha nods and Clint brushes his fingers against her back, the slightest touch of comfort that Natasha finds herself glad to receive. Clint always had a knack for knowing when Natasha needed something to steady her, even if she’d never say it out loud.

“Rey said she picked you up in Axxila. How long were you there?”

“A couple of years,” Clint says, speaking up. “Our ship crashed there, and we made the best of it.”

“They’re space smugglers,” Rey interjects, and Leia looks surprised.

“We were,” Clint says quickly before Natasha shoots him a look.

_Remember what I said about not talking?_

Leia’s silent for a long time. “I’m sure you’re aware that we’ll have to keep you from anything important, until we’re sure we can trust you,” she says finally. “But you’re welcome to stay on base, if you’re looking for a place to lie low and regroup.”

“Thanks,” Natasha says quietly. “Really. We appreciate it.”

“Come on,” Rey says, tugging at Clint’s arm. “I’ll show you to your quarters. It’s makeshift, but it’s probably better than what you’ve been dealing with living on that planet.”

“Hey --”

“And don’t you dare make another crack about Jakku, or I’ll punch you.”

Clint grumbles under his breath as Rey walks off, and Natasha turns to follow before she’s stopped by a voice behind her.

“Romanoff.”

Leia is standing with her hands on her hips, nodding towards her. “With me, please. If you don’t mind.”

Natasha glances at Clint, who shrugs as he continues to follow Rey, though she does manage to lock onto his eyes enough to assure him it’s okay, and _I’ll find you later. Don’t worry about me._

“What can I help you with, General?”

Leia tilts her head slowly. “I was actually hoping you could help me.” She gestures to a corner of the room and walks over, settling herself in a chair, motioning for Natasha to join her. Natasha does, trying to ignore the eyes that she feels on her back, as if she has an invisible target painted on her spine.

“I’m normally a little more wary about who I let onto my base,” says Leia, leaning forward and keeping her voice low. “But I’ve been around the block, and I’ve seen things.” She pauses. “Rey told me you deflected from the Republic.”

Natasha’s heart shoots into her stomach, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “Rey -- I didn’t tell her that!”

“Well, someone did,” Leia responds, looking absolutely undeterred by Natasha’s outburst. “Your boyfriend, maybe?”

“I’m not -- he’s not --” Natasha stops as Leia raises an eyebrow. “Forget it.”

“So it’s true, then? What Rey told me?”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly. “Yes,” she says after a moment. “We were in the Republic, Clint and I. For awhile. We got out when we realized they were doing nothing to protect themselves from the First Order. I couldn’t...we figured we’d work better on our own, and we have.”

Leia smiles slightly. “I knew people who were like that, once,” she says as Natasha looks at her with what she knows is a questionable face. “Stick around long enough, and you’ll recognize yourself in someone else, even if the situation is different.”

Natasha lets the words sink in while Leia gets up, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

 

When Natasha finds Clint, he’s sitting in the small room that Rey’s apparently dictated will be their quarters during their stay, scribbling words into a small journal. She doesn’t bother to announce herself and stops in front of him, putting her hands on her hips.

“Why did you tell Rey about us?”

“What?” Clint drops his pen, and stares up with a furrowed brow. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean, she knows where we came from, and why we go out. Or, she does now, because it’s not like I’m going to lie to the leader of the Resistance.”

“Ugh. Crap.” Clint lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t tell Rey.”

“Then how the _hell_ did she find out who we were?” Natasha asks impatiently, feeling her frustration rise as Clint starts to look visibly more apologetic.

“I...might’ve told Finn. Who probably told Rey.”

“Who told Leia,” Natasha finishes, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I swear to god, Clint --”

“Look, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel like I could trust him,” Clint interrupts and Natasha grinds her teeth together, counting to ten silently in her head.

“And _what_ , exactly, made you trust him?”

Clint swings his legs back and forth, tossing the journal to the side. “He told me he used to be in the First Order. That he used to be a Stormtrooper.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift a little too high. “A Stormtrooper? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Clint says abruptly. “And before you ask me how I knew he wasn’t yanking my chain or something, I’m pretty good at reading when people are lying about being brainwashed.”

Natasha finds her anger softening as the words leave his mouth. She steps forward, joining him on the bed and interlocking their fingers together.

“Well, if you had to spill our secrets to anyone, I’m glad at least it was two people who work for the Resistance,” she says slowly, offering Clint a small smile when he looks up.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t talk so much.”

“And you’re just realizing that _now_? I’ve been telling you to stop Han Solo-ing for years.” Natasha takes her free hand and winds it through his hair. “Thankfully, you keep ignoring me.”

Clint looks at her in surprise and Natasha leans over, kissing him gently on the lips.

“You know, you make me crazy sometimes. And not in a sexual way. But I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Clint leans into Natasha’s body, sighing quietly as she continues to play with his hair. “You’d probably still be scavenging around Axxila.”

“Yes. And instead, I ended up aboard the Millennium Falcon, and then got dumped onto a Resistance base led by one of the most important leaders in the Galaxy.”

“Yeah.” Clint chuckles under his breath. “I know that it’s not what we expected. But...at least you’re stuck here with me, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha says quietly as she lets Clint lean his warm weight against her. She tightens her grip on his body.

“At least there’s that.”

 

 

After an early dinner in which Natasha and Clint sequester themselves away, huddled in a corner, Clint’s on his way back to his room when he realizes that his head is aching with the beginnings of what he recognizes as a caffeine headache. He realizes he hasn’t had coffee in over 24 hours; Natasha would have normally made him some from scratch out of whatever rations they still had, but he had dragged her onto Rey’s ship before she had been able to start.

“Coffee. Coffee. Can’t anyone find me a decent cup of coffee around here?” he grumbles to no one in particular as he walks through the base, searching for someone who looks like they might be able to help. He’s not watching where he’s going and he almost trips over a large orange and white droid that’s spun directly into his path.

“Watch it -- dammit!” He stumbles as he tries to get out of the way, and the droid beeps at him incessantly while Clint groans and rubs his eyes, because the noise isn’t helping his pounding head.

“I don’t -- look, I just can’t understand -- no, I don’t want go that way,” he whines as the droid bumps against his leg a few times and then speeds off into the distance. Clint continues to wander until he finds a place to sit, slumping down with a frustrated _harumph_ , putting his head in his hands.

“Mr. Clint Barton. I believe you called for coffee?”

Clint looks up in surprise at the droning voice, realizing it belongs to a gold-plated robot with a red arm. The droid is standing above Clint holding out a steaming cup, the contents of which Clint knows he’d be able to smell from a mile away.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you. I should have introduced myself first. I am C-3PO, Human-Cyborg Relations. My dear friend BB-8 said you wanted some coffee but didn’t know where to find any. He would have brought some himself, but as you can see, well, he doesn’t quite have the capabilities for such things.”

“I --” Clint stares up at the droid and then looks down again as BB-8 beeps from where he’s hiding behind C-3PO’s leg. “Thanks,” he says as he stands up, accepting the drink.

“I am happy to be of help, Mr. Barton. Should you require any further assistance while on D’Qar, you should know that the storage units for food and other rations are in that building over there.” C-3PO motions to the left of him, and Clint smiles.

“Thanks,” he says again and C-3PO waves once before teetering away, BB-8 rolling along with him.

“I see you met my droid,” says a voice from behind and Clint turns around to find Poe walking in his direction, fully outfitted in what Clint recognizes is his flight suit. “I think he likes you.”

“I’m assuming you mean the ball thing, and not the one with the arms,” says Clint and Poe grins.

“He’s a good friend. And loyal, too.” Poe nods into the distance. “I heard you came from the Republic.”

“In a roundabout way, I guess.” Clint takes a sip of coffee.

“I also heard you can fly.”

“Yeah,” Clint says automatically. “I can fly. I haven’t in awhile, though. We haven’t had a ship.”

“I figured.” Poe winks. “But you’re in luck, since I’ve got a spare X-Wing that’s not being worked on, and permission to take it out for a few laps. That is, if you’re up for it.”

“Seriously?” Clint knows from the sound of his voice that he can’t keep the stupid grin off his face. “ _Hell_ yes,” he adds, gulping down the rest of his coffee a little too fast. Poe laughs with his eyes and then motions for Clint to follow him towards what Clint assumes must be his own plane.

“You can take my suit if you want,” he says as he reaches into a bag he’s carrying and takes out a large orange jumpsuit, a tangle of buckles, and a pair of goggles. Clint eagerly slips the jumpsuit on over his clothes while Poe helps him fasten his goggles and helmet, pulling the buckles tightly across Clint’s middle before directing him to one of the nearby X-Wings.

“Take her up and wait for my signal,” Poe yells after helping him into the pilot seat. Clint starts up the engine, feeling an excited jolt run through his body. It’s been far too long since he’s flown, and while flying had never been something that he’d made a passion out of, there was an exhilaration that came with the open sky and being able to be in control of your own choices, away from the world -- a feeling he realizes he’s missed. He takes the plane up easily and circles a few times until Poe gets on the comm unit.

“Let’s see what you’ve got against the best pilot in the Resistance, Clint Barton from the Republic.”

Clint laughs as he grabs the controls, following Poe as he speeds around the sky, diving and twisting forwards and backwards. Though he knows he’s never piloted this particular plane before, he falls into a rhythm easily, familiarity with how to move and steer returning to his brain as if his body’s woken up again after a long sleep.

He whoops out loud as Poe does a spiral underneath him and follows suit, and Poe whoops back. Clint thrusts the controls forward and does a long, dizzying spin. When he rights himself again, he realizes Poe’s spiraling through the air above him, swooping cleanly back down and gliding underneath the belly of Clint’s X-Wing.

“Damn,” Clint mutters, because he realizes for all his bravado, Poe’s words weren’t a lie. “That’s one _hell_ of a pilot.”

 

 

“You are going to get yourself killed.”

“You said I couldn’t talk, you didn’t say I couldn’t _fly_.”

“You haven't flown for years! _And_ you’ve never flown an X-Wing before. What if you had crashed your plane?”

“Wait, you’re actually _worried_ about me? Because normally, you’re yelling at me, you’re not trying to protect me.”

“This has nothing to do with protecting you, and everything to do with the fact that some hot shot pilot asked you to fly and you said yes.”

“Well, of course I said yes! I wasn’t going to say _no_!”

“Honestly. Here it’s a plane, on Axxila it was a scorpion...if you don’t kill yourself while we’re on this planet, it’ll be a miracle.”

 

 

Natasha can’t sleep.

It’s not unusual, though it annoys her, because she hates when she can’t turn her mind off enough to let her body rest comfortably. She turns over carefully; Clint’s pressed against her in the small twin bed and she tries to maneuver herself against his outstretched arm without totally waking him up.

“You’re cutting off my circulation,” Clint mumbles into the pillow and Natasha sighs, getting up so he can adjust himself. When he falls back onto the pillow with a grunt, she knows he’s fallen back asleep.

 _If only I could be so lucky_ , she thinks as she gets up out of bed, leaving Clint snoring loudly behind her. She sometimes hates the fact that he can sleep through pretty much anything, but she also knows she has no right to be jealous -- his nightmares, when they come, are enough to keep him up for days on end.

She slips on Clint’s jacket and then walks out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her, surprised to find so little activity outside. Natasha spies a few individuals walking around as well as some guards, but for the most part, it seemed that everyone on base felt secure enough to not worry about being attacked during off hours.

Natasha walks aimlessly, not paying attention to where she’s going, until she finds a steep hill that seems like it’ll take her far enough away from the world. When she gets to the top of the grassy mound, which is high enough that it overlooks most of the base, she notices someone else is there, too.

“Do you mind?”

Rey looks up, startled, and Natasha can tell from the look on her face that no one has bothered to ask her that question before -- at least, probably not when she’s sat up here.

“No,” Rey says after a long beat, shifting a little so that Natasha can sit down. She goes back to staring, placing her head on her knees.

“Wouldn’t have intentionally stolen your spot, but it’s kind of hard to find somewhere to be alone,” Natasha says as she settles herself. Rey smiles.

“I come here sometimes,” she admits. “Or more than sometimes, I guess. I come up here to think about things, when I don’t want anyone else to bother me.”

“What kind of things?” Natasha asks carefully, and Rey chews on her bottom lip.

“My family.”

Natasha nods, turning her gaze from Rey back towards the dark sky. “What happened to them?”

“I don’t know,” Rey says, sounding sad, but Natasha notices it’s not a depressed tone as much as it is a resigned one. “They left me on Jakku when I was little. They said they’d be back -- I believed they’d be back. It was a lie, but it was a good lie, something that I could make myself believe so that I didn’t give up hope of surviving.”

Natasha’s heart starts to ache at the other girl’s words. “My parents left me, too,” she says quietly. “Sold me to the highest bidder...they didn’t want a child, and my red hair made me valuable for trading.” She feels her lip curl sardonically. “I knew they were never coming back, so when I could, I ran. I found my way into the Republic by showing them my fighting skills and then I ended up embedding myself there. I thought those people were my family, but it turned out that I was wrong.”

“They didn’t treat you badly,” Rey says, as if she understands belonging but not _belonging_ , and Natasha shakes her head.

“No. The Republic wasn’t a bad place. They were kind to me. But I never really felt like I was supposed to fit in.” She draws her own knees up to her chest. “I met Clint by accident, and once I did, I _knew_ what it felt like to belong. The funny thing was, I didn’t even like him at first.”

“I didn’t like Finn,” Rey says quietly. “When I met him. He tried to save me because he thought I needed to be coddled. I hit him with my stick.”

“Clint tried to protect me in a fight once,” Natasha trades. “I quickly showed him that I didn’t need anyone else’s help, but I was angry that he thought I did.”

“Finn kept grabbing for my hand whenever we were in danger. It took him a long time to break that habit, but I absolutely _hated_ it.”

“Clint was worried I’d kill myself if I went out scavenging or smuggling alone. He never trusted I wouldn’t come back alive. It was _infuriating_.”

“No one ever came back until Finn.” Rey’s words are barely audible, and Natasha feels her throat close up.

“No one ever came back before Clint.”

She reaches over and takes Rey’s hand, and Rey blinks back tears.

 

 

While Natasha and Clint are eating breakfast the next morning, they’re approached by a bored looking Resistance fighter who opens the conversation with, “the General wants to see you,” and then leaves before they can ask any questions.

“Poe says you can fly pretty well,” says Leia when Natasha and Clint finally approach her at her station.

“Erm.” Clint shrugs. “I guess?”

Leia sighs. “His exact report to me was, ‘That Barton kid’s got an unbelievable amount of talent in the air.’”

“Wait -- that was --” Clint feels his cheeks grow hot, unsure if he feels flattered or angry. “That was a _test_? And he said that?”

Leia looks unamused. “I’m sure he did want to fly with you, but yes, it was also a test.” She pauses, staring at Clint with hard eyes. “Was he lying?”

“Uh.” Clint swallows. “No. I mean, no, I don’t think so. Uh, yeah. Tell him thanks for me.”

“You can tell him yourself,” says Leia, handing Clint a folder. “Because I’m authorizing a reconnaissance mission, and I want you and Romanoff to accompany him.”

“What -- a mission?” Natasha looks up sharply. “ _Why_? You barely know us.”

“Rey and Finn are needed here to take care of some personal matters -- matters that you, unfortunately, are not allowed to be privy to yet,” says Leia. “And you’re right, I don’t know you. However, I _would_ like to see how you do when you’re out with my team. You did want to make a difference and fight, didn’t you?”

Clint glances at Natasha, seeing the apprehension written all over her face, and then looks back at Leia.

“Well.” Leia crosses her arms when neither of them immediately answer. “I can see how tough it’s going to be to recruit two talented runaways who aren’t sure of where they belong.”

Clint opens his mouth but Leia cuts him off before he can talk again.

“What if I say that this is just a trial run? I trust you to take a ship, do some easy in-and-out -- hopefully with no First Order on your tail. Poe will be your backup in the air. If it’s something you think you can handle, we can talk about embedding you here.”

“I --” Clint breaks off, looking at Natasha, who arches her head in the barest of approvals. “You really want our service?”

“Who else’s service would I want?” Leia asks mildly, and Clint forces down a laugh as Natasha shakes her head next to him.

“Alright, General.” He squares his shoulders. “In that case, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Good.” Leia looks pleased. “Poe will show you where you can find gear, and we’ll ship you out later today.”

Clint puts his hand on Natasha’s back as he leads her out of the room, where he finds Poe waiting for them.

“Storage unit is that way, edge of base,” Poe says as he points into the distance. “I’ll meet you back here and we can go over all the stuff. Take whatever you think you might need.”

“Right. Guess I’m packing up,” Natasha says with a small sigh as she heads back to their room. Clint sighs as well, making his way to the building that Poe’s pointed him towards. When he finally gets there and yanks open the door, the last thing he expects to see is Finn and Rey locked into each other’s arms, with Rey pushed up against the wall and Finn’s hand on her chest.

“Um.”

Clint tries to back out of the room without issue but trips and falls into the door, and Rey and Finn stop kissing in surprise. Clint composes himself and grins, taking in their stunned faces as he grabs a few weapons from the shelves.

“Just planning to ship off,” he says smoothly, with a wave. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

 

When Clint gets back to his own room, Natasha’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through the rations they’ve accumulated.

“Caught Finn and Rey making out,” Clint says, trying to keep his tone casual, but he can’t help the gleeful smile that’s crawling over his face. He closes the door behind him as Natasha looks up in amusement..

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Are you surprised?”

“Not at all,” Natasha says lightly. “I’m actually more surprised that no one’s caught them sooner. I had them pegged as sleeping together the minute I saw how they piloted that ship.”

Clint laughs, joining Natasha on the floor, but he notices that her smile has dropped off her face.

“Hey.” He takes her hand. “Nat, listen. I know you’re a little weirded out by this whole thing. I get it. And I know what I told Leia back there, but we don’t have to go, if you’re not okay with it.”

Natasha takes a deep breath. “No,” she says, meeting Clint’s eyes. “I _want_ to go, Clint. I want to try out this...thing. Whatever this thing is. Whether it’s a job, or a new sense of loyalty...but she’s right. We’ve spent our whole lives sitting in one place or another, always wanting to do more. I was in the Republic for years, then Axxila...and suddenly, we’re on the Millennium Falcon. We’re in the Resistance. We’re being sent off for missions we don’t even _know_ about.” She breaks off, swallowing tightly, and Clint moves closer as he circles an arm around her shoulder.

“Remember what I told you, before we got here? That all we needed was each other, and that’s what matters? Not this damn Resistance. Not any mission, however important. Not even the Falcon.” He puts a hand against her face and thumbs away a stray piece of hair from her cheek. “This is about you and me, and it always will be. The whole damn _Galaxy_ could explode, and it’ll always be just you and me, Nat.”

Natasha tries to nod, but Clint can tell from the way her eyes are watering that she’s trying not to let all of her emotions break through the dam she’s carefully built for herself. He puts a hand on the side of her face and turns her head gently, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

“You know, you were always the worst sap when it came to reminding me that I’m not alone.”

“Part of my Han Solo-ing,” Clint responds as he kisses her again, and again, each time with a little more force. Natasha wraps her arms around his neck as Clint pushes her back onto the floor, until they’re lying on top of one another, Natasha’s fingers fumbling with the zipper on Clint’s pants.

“Well.”

Natasha jerks her hand away as Clint jerks upward, rolling quickly off of her body. Rey, Finn and Leia are standing in the doorway, and Finn’s got a grin on his face that’s a mile wide.

“Guess it’s time to leave _you_ two alone for a bit, smugglers.”

Clint doesn’t answer and instead attempts to scramble to his feet, grabbing his bag as Leia steps forward.

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” says Leia and Natasha feels her cheeks start to burn. She glances at Clint, who has frozen in the middle of trying to leave the room.

“It’s...a little more complicated than that.”

“Oh, trust me, Romanoff.” Leia’s eyes sparkle with something Clint thinks might be pure delight. “I know _all_ about complicated. But right now, what’s important is that your ship leaves in less than two hours, and Poe still has to brief you. If you’re too busy with other activities, however…”

“No. I mean, yes,” Clint corrects quickly. “Right. We were almost done packing.” He throws Natasha one last look and then motions for Natasha to follow him out of the room. As they do so, Rey and Finn’s quiet giggles follow, echoing off the halls.

 

 

“General Leia.”

The droid approaches Leia long after Clint and Natasha have left for their briefing, meeting her in the corridor, where she’s been lingering.

“Yes?”

“Might I trouble you to ask a question?”

Leia nods, looking at C-3PO. “Always.”

“I have trusted you for years, General, and I was just wondering...Barton and Romanoff. Why exactly did you let them take a mission like this? If you’re still not sure about their loyalties?”

Leia purses her lips and smiles sadly. “Because,” she starts quietly. “They reminded me of another person with a big heart, who got caught up in the only fight that mattered.”

 

 

“I can’t believe we have our own mission. How cool is that?”

Natasha can’t help but smile as Poe leads them towards the mess of fighter planes that are parked along the base, Clint’s hand tightly encased in her own.

“It’s cool, Clint, but it’s technically not our _own_ mission.”

“Right. I know.” Clint nods towards Poe as they continue to talk. “But it’s _still_ cool.”

Natasha tries to suppress her amusement. “You’re just saying that because you get to fly with Poe, and you’re getting obsessed with him.”

“No, I’m seriously not. But look at my Han Solo-ing. It actually worked out in our favor for once.”

“Clint --”

“I know, I know. Shut up.”

“Actually.” Natasha stops walking, pulling Clint to a halt with her. “I was going to say I’m glad you’re here with me. For this. For all of this.”

“Oh.” Clint smiles, leaning over to kiss her, his eyes shining. “Well, Nat. I’m glad you’re here with me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing TFA, I immediately texted the two worst real life enablers (hjea and fidesangelus) and asked them for ideas that would allow me to write my new favorite OTP with my current favorite OTP, because let's be real: it's a meeting that needed to happen. So, this is all your fault. Thank you both for beta reading and universe help, and thank you to [sweetwatersong](http://sweetwatersong.tumblr.com) for beta and for the ideas that stuck.
> 
> Spitballing prompts included "Nat and Clint as space smugglers out on their own" and "Rey and Finn try to join them in the Resistance." (The droids bringing Clint coffee idea courtesy of sweetwatersong, the "Hawkeye/Falcon" line courtesy of hjea/fidesangelus.)
> 
> Layout of the Millennium Falcon based on [this photo.](https://qph.is.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-7bbd5869bf418710d10d3cd532fdebac?convert_to_webp=true)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://isjustprogress.tumblr.com) for more flail and fic.


End file.
